The Jungle Movie
by taylort
Summary: Mr. Simmons' 4th grade class wins a trip to San Lorenzo thanks to Arnold's winning essay. Is this Arnold's chance to discover what happened to his parents? Based off of what Craig Bartlett has told HA! fans.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

Helga Pataki slammed her green locker shut, shifting the books under her arm as she marched down the hallway, scowling at anyone who dared look at her. She entered Mr. Simmons' classroom and made her way into her seat—second row, closest to the wall. She was the first one here, as usual, seeing as she left her house a full fifteen minutes before anyone else did. Fifteen minutes more, so she wouldn't have to endure Bob's screaming for shaving cream and Miriam's half-awake attempts to make a simple coffee.

The nine-year-old sighed and slumped in her seat, gazing at the desk in front of her. Arnold's desk. Arnold, the love of her life, whom her heart had ached for since age four…Arnold, the boy who she had helped just last week, saving their rundown neighborhood of Hillwood City from total demolition and modernization. Arnold, the boy to whom she had confessed her love just seven days ago.

In the span of those seven days, not much had changed. At first, Arnold was nicer to her in school, holding doors open for her and complimenting her more often. Helga, of course, scowled and berated him in return, wanting him to think she had been completely delusional on that FTI rooftop last week when she had made her confession.

Helga sighed and held her books to her chest, hugging them. The truth was, she hadn't been delusional; she had been completely honest. She was head-over-heels, crazy in love with the kid. She almost regretted taking her words back, as she often wondered how he would act to her _then._

"Helga?...Helga…"

Helga opened her eyes. Arnold was standing next to his desk, staring at her half-closed eyelids and the books she was squeezing to her chest. Helga slammed them on her desk. "What, Football Head, _what_?"

"Are you okay? You look a little…"

_Oh Arnold, so caring, so kind and thoughtful. _"I would be _fine_, Arnoldo, if you weren't butting into my business every three minutes! Can't a person have a little _peace_ around her? Yeesh!"

Arnold shrugged. "Sorry, Helga," he replied, taking his seat as the rest of the class began filing in. Sheena, Nadine and Phoebe were gathered around Rhonda Lloyd, who was proudly showing off the new, shiny silver bracelet on her wrist. "My parents bought it in Italy from a private collector for my birthday. Who _knows_ how much this cost?"

Harold walked in next, already taking bites out of his lunch. Eugene was behind him, looking down and absorbed in reading a book he was holding. He crashed right into the wall next to the doorway. "I'm okay!" he said, picking himself and his book up.

Stinky and Sid walked in, talking amiably about their weekends. "Boy howdy," Sid was saying, "When I got to the park, it was nearly 90 degrees! I almost had to jump into the pond."

"Inn't that against the park rules?" Stinky drawled in his Southern accent. Sid shrugged. "Yeah, but it sure cooled me off!"

Gerald Johansen, Arnold's best friend, walked in next, tapping thumbs with his best friend before sitting in the desk next to him. The classroom was alive with the sounds of the fourth-grade class talking, laughing, and in Harold's case, belching.

Mr. Simmons was the last person to walk in, just as the bell rang. "Hello, hello class! Settle down, please. I have a very important and special announcement to make."

Helga rested her face in her hand, her elbow propped up on her desk. "Oh, brother." Simmons had an "important and special" announcement to make at least twice a day, most of which were concerned with teamwork and cooperation. Slowly, the class quieted down and took their seats, all attention placed on Mr. Simmons.

"Thank you, class. I got a letter yesterday from the school board, about a very special contest!"

"A contest? Willikers. Will there be prizes?" Stinky asked.

"Yes, Stinky, and this prize is particularly special. The writer of the winning essay will receive an all-expenses trip to the jungles of South America—with his or her whole class!"

Various gasps and interested whispers filled the room. Helga noticed Arnold sitting up straighter at the mention of a jungle. "What is the subject matter of the essay?" Phoebe asked.

Mr. Simmons picked up a letter lying on his desk. "Well," he said, his eyes scanning over the paper, "All you have to do is write a 200-word essay about _why_ you want to visit South America."

"That's a snap. All you have to do is make up some bogus about how interested in the _history_ you are," Helga snidely remarked.

Mr. Simmons smiled. "Ah, yes, Helga, but the history of South America is indeed very special. The jungles alone have been inhabited by civilizations such as the Olmec, the Incans, the Mayans, and the Aztecs, before the Spaniards conquered and took over. There are many special monuments to explore and ancient hieroglyphics written…"

"Not to mention the unique culture of the _Mestizo_ peoples," Phoebe remarked.

"Aw, what's so great about history?" Harold whined, taking ferocious bites out of his ham-and-cheese sandwich. "History's boring!"

"Yes, but the South Americas are home to some of the most ethnically rich foods, Harold. Think about all you could learn about bananas, coffee, and even chocolate! The Aztecs were very…"

"Did you say chocolate?!" Harold exclaimed. "I'm in."

"So, who wants to enter the contest?" Mr. Simmons asked. "The application forms and rules are right here on my desk."

Helga leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as she watched Gerald, Phoebe, Harold, Stinky, and Eugene walk up to the desk and grab a sheet of paper. Gerald noticed Arnold staring down at his desk, his hands folded on the wooden surface. "Hey, Arnold," Gerald said, "You entering the contest?"

"I don't know, Gerald. I mean, on one hand, I'd really like to go and all, but on another hand…I don't know if I could handle it."

"You mean, finding out something about your parents?" Gerald asked. Helga leaned forward slightly. Arnold was the one thing that occupied her mind most, and she knew next to nothing about his parents.

Arnold nodded. "I just don't want to get my hopes up about finding something out, and then having them fall through."

The bell for lunch rang, and Arnold and Gerald continued talking, Helga making sure to keep close behind them in the hallway—without looking too suspiciously close. "C'mon, man, I think you should enter," Gerald said. "You could write a really sentimental story about your parents, and they'd have to choose yours to win."

"Wouldn't that be like selling out, though, Gerald?" Arnold asked, joining the lunch line. Helga stood behind Gerald.

Gerald shrugged. "Beats me. Hey, it's okay if you don't want to enter. I was just makin' a suggestion. But I just think it'd be a great way for you to figure something out."

"Figure what out?" Helga loudly inquired, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"Nothin', Helga," Gerald sighed, examining a green blob in a bowl before shrugging and setting it down on his plate. Arnold didn't reply, instead opting to stare at his tray with an empty look on his face. Helga reached over and snapped her fingers. "Hey, Football Head! Are you going to just stand here or are you gonna let the rest of us get some food?"

Arnold looked up, grabbing a bowl of green blob. "Oh. Sorry, Helga," he replied in a spacey tone, following Gerald to their usual table.

---

"So, didja think about it?" Gerald asked, kicking a pebble down the cracked sidewalk that stretched along Vine Street. School had just been let out for the day, and he and Arnold were walking home.

Arnold shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I think I'm going to enter, Gerald. I need to find out what happened to them. But, Gerald…I didn't take one of those applications from Mr. Simmons."

"No sweat, you can have mine," Gerald said, fishing through his backpack and handing over the slightly crumpled paper. "I knew you would change your mind, so I grabbed an extra for you."

Arnold grinned and tapped thumbs with Gerald, as they reached the Sunset Arms boarding house. "Well, see ya tomorrow, Gerald." He opened the door to his home, stepping aside so Grandma's various pets could run out.

"I'm home," he called out to no one in particular, dropping his backpack by the front door and bringing the application into the kitchen. His Grandpa was sitting at the table, his face concealed by the daily newspaper. "Hi, Grandpa."

Grandpa lowered the paper. "Well, if it isn't Short Man," he said, grinning. He gestured to the stovetop, where a plate of cookies rested. "Have some cookies and milk. But be careful, Pookie made those. Who knows what she put in them."

"Didn't you have any?" Arnold asked, grabbing three cookies and putting them on a plate.

"What are you, crazy? Of course I didn't have any! I haven't had one of her cookies since that disgusting pickle-oatmeal combination…"

Arnold slowly placed the cookies back on their original plate and opted for a glass of milk instead.

"So how was school today, Arnold?" Grandpa asked as Arnold sat across from him at the table, glass of milk in hand.

"It was alright, Grandpa. Mr. Simmons told us about this contest."

"A contest, eh?"

Arnold slid the application to his grandpa. "The writer of the winning essay gets to take his class on an all-expenses field trip to…"

"…the jungles of South America," Grandpa finished as he read the contest application. "Well, sounds like a perfect opportunity for you, doesn't it?"

"I guess so, Grandpa. I just don't want the contest judges to think I'm making up a story so I can win." Arnold took a few gulps of milk.

Grandpa smiled and gave the application back to Arnold. "As long as you know you're telling your story straight from the heart, there's no reason for anyone else to think otherwise."

"Thanks, Grandpa."

Arnold and Phil's conversation was interrupted by a figure dressed in red and blue spandex, as well as a red cape, went running by. "I'm off to save the downtrodden souls of the missionaries!" Grandma exclaimed, running out the door. Grandpa and Arnold smiled at each other, rolling their eyes.

---

Later that night, Arnold sat his desk, pencil in hand. The only light in his room came from the desk lamp sitting on his left. A blank piece of paper sat in front of him, with several attempts at an essay lay in crumpled balls on his floor. Arnold set his pencil down, then picked it up, then put it down again.

"_My name is Arnold, and I really want to go to South America to find out what happened to my parents…"_ Arnold crumpled his latest attempt and tossed it in the general direction of his garbage can. His pet pig, Abner, walked up to it and sniffed it.

Arnold sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't do this, Abner. I can't even write a good essay about this." Abner snorted in response and ran downstairs. Grandpa's words suddenly echoed through Arnold's mind. _As long as you know you're telling your story straight from the heart…_

Arnold took out a fresh sheet of paper and began writing.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thank you so much for the comments and feedback, everyone! I appreciate it so much! Here's part two :]

**Part Two**

_A week later_

"Class, class, please settle down," Mr. Simmons pleaded as the bell rang. "Curly, please stop sniffing the gluesticks, it's really not good for your health."

Curly simply grinned and stashed the three gluesticks in his desk.

"So, class, today your contest entries are due! Now, from what I recall, Eugene, Harold, Stinky, Phoebe, Gerald and Arnold were interested in entering? Would anyone like to share what I'm sure is their very special essay?"

Phoebe raised her hand. "I would like to share my essay with the class, Mr. Simmons." Mr. Simmons nodded and signaled for her to stand up. "My name is Phoebe Hyerdahl, and I am in Mr. Simmons' 4th grade class at P.S. 118. I find the historically rich culture of the continent of South America very fascinating, as well as…"

Helga stifled her yawn, only because Phoebe was her best friend. She was eagerly anticipating hearing Arnold's essay.

Harold read his aloud next. "I really, really like chocolate," he grinned. "And would really…life—whoops, I mean 'like'…I got a chocolate stain on my paper…" The class laughed while Mr. Simmons smiled encouragingly.

Eugene tripped on his way to the front of the classroom and decided not to read his essay. Stinky and Gerald also opted out of reading aloud, leaving just one essay left to be read—Arnold's.

"Arnold, would you like to share your essay with the class?" Mr. Simmons asked.

Arnold rubbed the back of his football-shaped head. Helga could almost reach out and touch his adorably soft and sweet-smelling hair… "I don't know, Mr. Simmons. It's…sort of a personal story."

"Well, come on, if the contest judges get to read it, I think we should get to hear it," Sid remarked. Various shouts of agreement followed.

"Now, class, Arnold doesn't have to read it if he doesn't…" Mr. Simmons began, but Arnold stood up, clutching his paper. "It's okay, Mr. Simmons. I'll read it." He walked up to the front of the room, looking slightly self-conscious.

"_My name is Arnold, and I am in Mr. Simmons' 4__th__ grade class at P.S. 118. I grew up most of my life in a boarding house run by my grandfather, and was raised by my grandparents since I was just a baby. For years, Grandpa would tell me stories about my parents that I thought could never, in a million years, be true. He told me my mother, Stella, was a scientist, coming up with solutions and medicines to diseases that had once been though incurable. He told me my father, Miles, was an explorer, trying to bring peace to various tribes across the world. I thought my grandfather made up all those great stories about my parents—until I found my father's journal in the attic. I read all about how my parents met, and how they traveled across South America together. I read about my own childhood, and then suddenly…the journal ended. Not one word was mentioned about my parents' possible, current whereabouts, and nobody knows what happened to them. The only thing I found was a map, and I think it's a map of the route my parents took on their last trip. I hope I can win this trip to South America so I can finally solve the mystery about what happened to the two people who gave me the small blue hat sitting on my head."_ At the last sentence, Arnold, almost instinctively, reached up to touch his tiny blue hat.

The class applauded; Mr. Simmons' eyes were filled with tears. "Arnold…that was wonderful, and a very special essay indeed."

"Willikers! I din't know your parents had just up left and disappeared," Stinky exclaimed.

Even Helga's eyes began to tear, although she quickly swiped at her eyes to hide it.

"Well…thanks, guys," Arnold said, smiling sheepishly and handing his essay to Mr. Simmons, who was dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. Arnold returned to his seat, and Helga tapped him on the shoulder.

When he turned to look at her—straight in the eyes—Helga quickly glanced down at her desk, twiddling her thumbs. "Hey…Arnold…I'm s-sorry to hear about…your parents," she said softly, as if each word were costing her great strength. She looked up. Arnold smiled at her, and she could feel her brain turning to mush. "It's okay, Helga. Thanks."

_Oh, Arnold. My poor beleaguered soul, cut off from a customary childhood, having no parents to fill the dark, profound hole in your good-intentioned heart or to guide you through your woebegone life._ Helga could feel a goofy smile begin to creep upon her face, and quickly snapped herself out of it. "Yeah, well, that still won't change the fact that I hate your stinking guts!"

Arnold rolled his eyes, although he was still smiling. "Whatever you say, Helga."

---

_A week later_

Mr. Simmons eagerly burst through the door of the classroom, ignoring Curly, who was sitting on the bookshelf, gluing pages of books together and cackling madly. "Class! Class, I have some very exciting and special news."

"Student council nominations have been announced?" Phoebe asked, pushing up her classes.

"They're finally putting new soap in boy's terlet?" Stinky inquired.

"We got new cafeteria chefs! Yeaaaahh!" Harold cheered.

Mr. Simmons smiled at his students. "Nope, it's not one of those. It's something even more exciting and special. The winner of the South America essay has been announced, and it's someone from this class!"

Many of the students gasped. Eugene bit his lip nervously, while Phoebe clasped her hands together. Gerald grinned at Arnold.

"It's gotta be Arnold. His essay can't be beat," Sid praised. Seeing the slightly hurt look upon Phoebe's face, he added, "No offense."

Mr. Simmons opened the manila envelope tucked under his arm, unsheathing a piece of paper. "And the winner is our very own…Arnold!" The whole class erupted in cheers, except for Phoebe, whose eyes began to water. Gerald put an arm around her. "It's okay, you tried your best," he reassured her. He then reached over to punch Arnold on the arm lightly.

"The judges wrote… 'Arnold's essay was very touching and we hope this boy will be able to find his parents.' Another judge wrote, 'I have personally met explorers Miles and Stella, and I sincerely hope Arnold will be reunited with his parents.' The third judge said, 'Arnold's essay was emotionally powerful and we wish him the best of luck on his journey.' Isn't that just fantastic?" Mr. Simmons asked, digging into the manila envelope and doling out plane tickets to everybody. "Congratulations, Arnold!"

Arnold smiled, glancing down at his plane ticket. "Thanks, Mr. Simmons." The flight was scheduled for next Monday. Six days. Arnold could feel his pulse pounding. In just six days, he would be on his way to possibly solving the mystery forever.

"Uh, Mr. Simmons?" Rhonda piped up. "We _are_ flying first class, aren't we?"

"Uh…no," the teacher replied. Rhonda scoffed. "But I'm sure flying in second class will be just as every bit of a special experience. Now, class, I've also compiled a list of supplies you will need to pack. We _will_ be camping out, remember, so…"

"Wait a sec here, boss. We're _camping_? In the middle of the wilderness? In a _foreign country_?" Helga asked.

"Um, yes, Helga, that is correct. Won't that be just a special experience?"

Helga scowled and crossed her arms. "Yeah, if you're like bears sitting outside just waiting to eat your brains out," she muttered.

"I'm oh-so certain that I've never camped out before, but I do look forward to learning new skills," Lila Sawyer exclaimed. Many of the boys whispered and nodded in agreement. Helga growled. She had never been Lila's number one fan, even though she was pretty certain Arnold's crush on her had ended.

"I hope there are a variety of bugs in the wilderness," Nadine remarked. Sid wrinkled his nose. "That's exactly what I _don't_ hope for! Think of all the bug spray I'd need!"

"_I_ am going to pack my state-of-the-art TechTent. It regulates the temperature inside and provides 24-hour relief from all kinds of bugs," Rhonda stated.

"How are we gonna use the bathroom?" Stinky wondered, scratching his head.

"I'm gonna bring a whole suitcase full of food!" Harold yelled.

"Hey, Arnold, you okay?" Gerald asked, taking his arm off of Phoebe long enough to nudge his best friend, who was still staring at his plane ticket. "You're being kinda quiet."

"I'm fine," Arnold said, looking up. "I just can't believe this is actually going to happen."


End file.
